


Latch

by cosmicmuke



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Alcohol, Anal Sex, Angst, Blow Jobs, Bottom Michael, BoyxBoy, Drug Use, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Muke - Freeform, My First AO3 Post, Obsessive Behavior, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sad Michael, Top Luke, also on Wattpad, luke kind of has ocd, set in the uk
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-15
Updated: 2015-06-05
Packaged: 2018-03-30 17:32:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3945562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmicmuke/pseuds/cosmicmuke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>in which Michael's latched onto forgetting and Luke's latched onto the past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. introduction

**Author's Note:**

> just a lil something that came to mind when I was listening to Latch by Sam Smith&Disclosure. it's set in the uk, hence the GCSE and A Level talk there will be. sorry in advance for any mistakes made, and tysm for reading :)

Michael always had a tendency to block everything negative out

When he was twelve, and his grandfather was diagnosed with terminal lung cancer, he acted like nothing was happening, even as his family began to deteriorate around him.

When he was fifteen and was told he wasn't likely to pass many GCSE's, he carried on going out with friends and enjoying himself.

When he was seventeen and almost crashed whilst driving drunk, he shrugged in his mothers face and continued to get shitfaced.

When he was eighteen, the unthinkable happened, and Michael couldn't block what happened out.

But he wouldn't let anyone know that. 

_Until he meets the boy with blonde hair and innocent eyes._

—————

Luke always had a tendency to obsess over his mistakes.

When he was twelve, he left the front door open a little too long so their dog escaped, and even after being found he felt sick to his stomach.

When he was fifteen and failed a test, he made a vow to never skip a night of studying _ever again_.

When he was seventeen and made his brother's nose bleed in a playful fight, he wouldn't stop apologising for weeks.

When he was eighteen, he made the biggest mistake of his life.

And he never thought anything could lessen the guilt.

_Until he meets the boy with wild hair and empty eyes._


	2. downfall

Michael never wanted to be like this. He never wanted to make all of his friends and family turn their backs on him. Never wanted to fuck his entire life up.

Deep down, he knew the cause for almost every action he made--fear. The fear of people leaving him clutched around his throat and just as it would start to strangle him, Michael would run from it. He would run until his lungs were on fire and legs were jelly. And that's how things had always been for him.

It wasn't until Michael's late teens that he discovered getting high and drunk were the best way to simply forget without all the pain. Instead, it sent him into the sky, too elated to think straight--he was free. It was the only time where he felt nothing but numbness. Which, of course, couldn't last long. The fall would be sudden and shocking, the impact knocking the life out of him.

That's how Michael ended up curled on the ground outside some filthy apartment complex, heart begging to break out of his chest and blood cracked along his lips from where he'd bit his lip to stop the tears running down his cheeks. Michael wondered what his mother would say if she saw him now. No job, no stability, both mind and body fucked. That was probably the most painful thing he could feel through the lightning stabbing at him over and over again, the regret. In a twisted way, Michael actually felt quite relieved that his mother couldn't see him now.

 _Stupidstupidstupid_ , Michael spat in his mind.

Michael just wished that he could turn back the clocks and start fresh, or go up to his younger self and slap him around the face for being such an idiot. Knowing how stubborn and defiant Michael was even as a young teen, he probably would've laughed fuck off. He'd always been a bit of a prick, but at least he had a sense of humour back then. Michael couldn't remember the last time he laughed at something because he actually found it funny or wasn't under the influence of drugs and alcohol.

The more he thought, he worse he felt. Michael curled in on himself, arms wrapped around his stomach tightly as if he was trying to keep himself from falling apart physically. He squeezed his eyes so tightly he could see phosphenes - the dancing patterns behind his eyes that made Michael wonder as a child - and, for the first time in years, he let himself fall apart. Michael's teeth let go of his lips and he let out a loud sob, so loud it echoed in the nothingness around him.

Except no one was there to hear him. And that only helped make everything so much worse.

 

* * *

 

Luke was going to be late. He was going to be late again and god knows what his boss would do to him.

"You can not lose this job," Luke muttered to himself, probably looking crazy to the shuffling bodies around him but not caring less because fuck he was late and if he lost this job his mother would kill him. The city around him was buzzing with life, since it was the first warm day in months. And, of course, what a lovely day it was for Luke to have his arse fired. He checked the time on his phone. 12:57 pm. His shift started in just three minutes.

 _Shit_.

He always hated this shift. It was Saturday, and every Saturday morning his entire family slept in and the buses ran awkward times. So he had to walk from one end of the city to the other, which took almost an hour on a good day. For Luke, it was a bad day. The first glimpse of sunlight brought hoards of people out from their shelter, making it harder for Luke to find a quick path to work. It messed up his entire schedule--and if there was one thing he hated being messed up, it was his bloody schedule.

At least Luke had the advantage of his long legs to get him through the crowd faster. He also towered above almost everyone, giving him a clearer view of the café he worked at. The only problem with his height was how uncoordinated he was, which heightened the ever-increasing odds of him falling flat on his face. The café was visible now, and Luke felt an overwhelming rush run over him as he realised there was a possibility he would still be employed by the end of the day.

Luke jogged across the road that lead to the café, but stopped short as he saw someone oddly familiar hunched next to the entrance of the café. The burst of wild, fading blue hair was automatically recognisable in a city full of carbon copies, except those few areas where the 'different kids' hung out--but this wasn't anywhere near his workplace. It was Michael fucking Clifford.

Michael Clifford, the boy who always seemed larger than life itself. The boy who Luke used to stare at in awe, even as his friends snickered and gossiped about how strange he was. He always seemed so free and careless, never looking back with regret. Luke had always wanted to be someone like Michael Clifford. It had been three years since Michael Clifford had left school, and those three years had changed something within the lively boy.

Obviously something bad had happened to him. His green eyes were sunken in his deathly pale face, lips cracked and dry, face drained of all life. Michael's entire being seemed to be made from pure melancholy. He also looked thinner but also swollen at the same time. Michael's clothes looked like they hadn't seen a washing machine in weeks, his thin, tattered jumper stretched over his hands to make sweater paws. Michael was playing with his fingers absentmindedly, eyes fixed on them.

Luke should have said something. Luke should have offered a helping hand. He was about to say something, anything, when the nerves kicked in because _what if Michael couldn't recognise Luke? What if he didn't **want** help?_

So Luke took the coward's way out. He ignored the broken boy and pushed open the doors instead, not wanting to risk his job.

And he hadn't felt so low in months.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the brevity and how long it took to post ((also any errors there are probably loads oops)). thank you for reading, you beautiful people.


	3. loose change

Michael had lost track of the amount of pity glances he'd been getting all day. Early in the morning, when he decided that going back to his bedsit of an apartment would be worse than sitting outside all day. 

 

At least he'd now upgraded from the chewing-gum littered floor to a rotting bench on the other side of the street he woke up on. 

 

Even though he hadn't looked in a mirror once that morning, Michael knew what he must look like — a complete mess. No wonder people were giving him pitiful looks, they probably thought he was homeless. Michael couldn't stand them. 

 

Michael's stomach felt hollow, and eventually stopped grumbling as the day wore on. He'd grown used to the hunger. Maybe he'd be able to grab something cheap with the loose change in his front jean pocket. Besides, there was always some to find scattered on the streets. 

 

What Michael was most worried about was his rent. It wasn't much, but without his mothers help — and after they're argument the previous week, they hadn't even talked — he would never be able to afford the rent without her.

 

Just as he began to get lost in the despair of just how poor he was, Michael heard a voice say, "Uh, Michael? Clifford?" shakily. Michael whipped his head up and met the eyes of a tall blonde boy, who looked around his age and familiar, in an unfamiliar way. 

 

"Who the fuck-" Michael began, then cut paused abruptly as he realised who it was. Luke Hemmings, one of his ex-classmates from comprehensive school. They were never close, so why on earth would Luke approach Michael? How did he even recognise him when he had a completely different colour hair, and looked closer to death than he ever had. 

 

Michael studied Luke as Luke studied Michael, both of their eyes roaming each other curiously, studying the change in their appearances. Luke had certainly grown up from the skinny little kid with hair straightened across his forehead like a second skin. He looked tall, a little taller than Michael, and his hair was in a flopping quiff (a/n fuck guys i'm so glad luke has this hair now god bless the fam). He'd actually grown to be attractive, something Michael barely focused on these days. 

 

Luke shifted awkwardly. It seemed as if he was still shy, even with his transformation. "Hi. So, you may not even bloody know who I am but-"

 

"I know who you are," Michael replied, voice void of any emotion. Michael felt as if it was both a blessing and a curse to be so detached and snappy, since Luke looked even more unsure of himself.

 

"Okay, that's good, I guess." Luke picked at his nails and looked down at his hands.

 

"Why are you talking to me?" Michael snapped, guilt seeping in as Luke flinched. He pushed the guilt away and filled the gap with coldness.

 

"I noticed you on the street this morning, and really, I should have said something to you then but I didn't. You looked really upset. You still do. Sorry if that's offensive but it's just you don't look well, and I, uh, thought you might want help or something. I don't know," Luke mumbled the last sentence.

 

Michael narrowed his eyes at Luke. He wasn't any different to the people who walked past and thought 'poor guy, he can't even look after himself'. "I don't want your pity, Luke."

 

One of Luke's eyebrows raised. "I don't pity you. I'm concerned. There's a difference, Michael." Luke put the same emphasis on Michael's name as he did to Luke. 

 

"I find that hard to believe."

 

"Do you have a job? Any source of income?" Luke asked, his blue eyes wide and inquisitive yet screaming that he actually did care. Michael found it hard to tear his own dull eyes away from such vibrant ones.

 

"Give me a single reason why I should I tell you." 

 

Luke sat at the end of the bench, giving Michael a don't bite me look. "Because, if you don't I could get you one."

 

Michael rolled his eyes, not looking at the blonde boy as he said, "I told you I don't want your fucking pity."

 

"And I told you, it's not pity." Luke's hard tone made Michael look up in surprise. His demeanour could change surprisingly quickly. 

 

Michael swallowed, contemplating whether or not he should tell Luke the truth. That no one would think of giving someone who failed most of his GCSE's and had an eyebrow bar and tattoos and bloody blue hair a serious job. It wasn't even a nice shade of blue anymore. 

 

With a heavy sigh, Michael looked at the dirty ground and muttered, "Fine. I don't have a job and am probably going to end up living on the streets for the rest of my life. Happy?"

 

Michael couldn't see, but Luke still nodded his head in contemplation. "That's good, at least. That you have a home."

 

Michael made a disgruntled noise in response. 

 

"The job I can get you is only part-time though. It doesn't pay very well, but it's better than nothing, right?"

 

"What is it?"

 

A small smile crept onto Luke's face and he didn't bother hiding it. He'd succeeded in getting Michael to listen to him, albeit his response being short. "Same as me — I'm a waiter, by the way. I actually work at that restaurant you were sitting by this morning."

 

Michael bit his lip over the conflict going on in his head. He thanked God that he wasn't high or dunk, because the two sides arguing would have been enough to shut his brain down. 

 

"You have to say yes, Michael. I want to help you."

 

"Why do you want to help me?" Michael whispered, the fragile, cracked part of him exposing itself. "No one wants to help me."

 

Luke felt his heart be pulled, and it psychically hurt him to see someone who used to be so lively broken down and empty. 

 

"Because you deserve it. You deserve to be able to live your life, to be happy and free and full of life. And even though we never were close friends, I would be honoured to help you find that happiness."

 

Michael couldn't help the surge of hope that came with each word Luke spoke. Maybe things would get better, maybe he would get a shot at life. 

 

"I'll take the job."

**Author's Note:**

> that was just the introduction, so the rest of the chapters will be much, much longer. what did you think? please leave kudos/comments if you can x


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